World on Fire
by caffinate-me
Summary: On January 9, 1999 Johanna Beckett was murdered. In 2009 Detective Kate Beckett meets Rick Castle. But what happened in between? How did Kate become the person that Castle fell in love with? Ten years, one story.
1. Prologue

World on Fire

A/N: I meant to wait to start writing this but I am impatient. Chapter 1 is short but the rest of them won't be. Let me know what you think! This is not AU, so Kate and Castle don't meet before they do in the series. This is Kate's story. Castle appears a few times but it is not a "they met before" story.

I look forward to hearing what you think! :)

Plot: What we know: on January 9, 1999 Johanna Beckett was murdered in an alleyway in the rough neighborhood of Washington Heights, leaving behind her daughter, 19 year old Kate, to pick up the pieces and deal with the aftermath. Ten years later Detective Kate Beckett meets Richard Castle, but what happened in between?

* * *

Prologue

January 10, 1999

The sound of the ticking clock had faded to a drone in the background. A constant, consistent sounds humming in her mind as the words coming out of the man's mouth swirled with the string of her own unintelligible thoughts. There were no more tears, they had come briefly as she sat staring at her bedroom wall the night before and in the living room answering a list of questions with monotone monosyllabic answers. Now, she was just numb, sitting in the room with the stiff back chairs and a simple desk. The room would be considered warm if she cared enough to think about it but she didn't. She didn't want to think about anything other than crawling back into her bed and staring at the photo framed on her bedside table. She didn't want to think about…

"Ms. Beckett?" The man's voice interrupted her thoughts and her eyes rolled up to look at him. "I know this is hard. If you would like to come back tomorrow I can make another appointment for you but these arrangements need to be made as soon as possible."

She swallowed. She could do this. She could still swallow and blink. She could answer these questions too. Her head nodded as she cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter in her chair. "No, no it's fine. We can do this now. Umm, the cherry wood is good. That's fine."

The funeral director looked at her, his eyes roaming over her face, trying to read her, as he continued to stare past him at the back wall. There was an untouched box of tissues on the desk, next to the unopened bottle of water. He nodded slowly. "Okay, then. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

Kate shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm fine. Just fine."

She was fine. She could do this. She was…

"I'm fine."

He nodded again, slowly. "Okay, well, then we're almost finished."

Kate nodded again. Almost done. Almost…

She stared at the sheet of paper that the funeral director placed in front of her.

He was talking.

"You can take this with you if you like. We would just need it back by the end of the week. We will have a small place holder until the granite stone is finished."

Her hand stretched out almost of its own accord and she could feel the paper, rough and slick at the same time under her fingertips as she pulled the sheet off of the desk and into her lap.

"We have her name and birth date. We just need any other wording you would like. Any remembrance."

His voice trailed off as she continued to stare at the sheet, silently wondering why the tears still weren't falling. There was a box of tissues, open in front of her. She was supposed to be crying wasn't she? That's why it was there. People cried when they did things like this, when they picked out a casket and wrote down the phrase for a tombstone they were supposed to cry. They were supposed to tell stories and blubber as they pulled tissues sheet by sheet out of the box and left them in a crumpled heap on the floor for the custodian to clean up later that day. They weren't supposed to be fine.

"No," she forced her voice out of her dry throat. Maybe she should drink some of that water. "No, it's fine. I can do it now."

Her right hand carefully placed the paper back on the desk, smoothing out a bent corner as she mumbled an apology for messing up the perfectly crisp white sheet and slid forward in her seat, lifting her hips so she could pull the jagged corner of paper out of her pocket. She had torn it out of her notebook before she had left her parent, her father's, apartment earlier. Her palm held it down on the desk for a second before she pulled her hand back, leaving it beside the paper, reaching for a pen instead.

She straightened her Stanford sweatshirt, scooting forward in the chair again as she lifted the pen to the paper, feeling the weight of the plastic and metal in her hand as she held it over the sheet.

_Vincit Omnia Veritas._

Truth conquers all.

She held the paper back out to the funeral director and he glanced down at it with a drawn brow before looking back up at her, the question evident in his eyes. The traditional beloved mother and wife missing from her sentiment, but she didn't have to write that. Everyone knew that already. Johanna Beckett loved her husband and daughter but she loved the truth more.

"It's what she would have wanted," Kate whispered.

The funeral director nodded and cleared his throat as he placed the paper back into the file. He looked back up at her hesitantly. "There is just one more thing…"

Kate forced down the urge to roll her eyes. Would he just get on with it already? She wasn't going to break. She was fine. This was all fine. She just wanted to get it over with.

He cleared his throat again and Kate felt the need to yell rising in her throat, the urge to throw something threatening to overpower her. "Yes?"

"About payment. I can set up a payment or send the bill in the mail."

Kate shook her head, reaching for her purse. "No, it's fine. My father sent me with a check."

She pulled the folded piece of paper from her wallet and smoothed it out on the desk in front of her. It was already signed. She had gotten her father to do that in the hours before, talking to him in low, calm tones as he stared blankly at the newspaper spread out over the kitchen table, sitting in his spot, the world news section placed aside in front of her mother's usual seat. "How much is it?"

He held out another sheet of paper and her eyes scanned over the list of numbers until they landed on the number below the line. One number: the numerical cost of her mother's death.

She nodded, using a sleeved hand to push back a lock of hair behind her ear. It was falling out of the braid she had tugged it into that morning. Slowly, she picked up the pen and scratched the number into the small rectangular box.

She held it out to the man as she stood from the chair, turning towards the door. "That's it, right? You don't need anything else?"

The funeral director, what was his name again, shook his head. "No, that is all for now and I'm sure if anything else comes up we can speak to your father about it."

Kate's head jerked up to his and he took a step back at the sudden flash of emotion, the only she had shown all day, flooding through her eyes. "No! No, if anything else comes up you talk to me. I can handle it. I can handle all of it."

He nodded slowly as she pressed the back of her palm to her mouth and nodded, confirming her previous statement to herself with a deep, calming breath. "I'm fine. I can handle it. Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

The apartment door slipped shut with a quiet click as Kate made her way back into her parent's apartment. The kitchen table was clear now, the newspaper stacked carefully on the counter, waiting for her to take her sections if she wanted. There was a play coming out that she had been raving about seeing a couple of days before. It was opening off Broadway the next day. Her mother was going to take her…

Was…

Not anymore.

The apartment was silent, no signs of movement as Kate placed her purse on the table and shifted her weight to see into the living room, listening for sounds coming from the bedroom or the office. Nothing. There was nothing.

Her eyes drifted to the counter as she took a step back towards the kitchen. She really should eat something. A flicker of yellow caught her attention and her eyes drifted down to look at the pale square sticky note pasted to the counter.

_Gone to the office._

She sighed as she peeled the post-it from its spot and crumpled it up in her fist, pushing it through the swinging top of the garbage can. She took another step forward and reached for the handle of the refrigerator, pulling it open so that she could stare at the contents as she leaned against the edge of the door. The shelves were full. She and her mother had gone shopping only a couple of days before.

_We're going to get your favorites, Katie. Now that you're living across the country I have to spoil you when I can._

Kate had rolled her eyes as they wandered the aisles of the market, voicing that her mother didn't have to do that. She was fine eating whatever, but inside she had been smiling. It was nice to be wanted, to be home.

It had been nice… Now… She sighed as she pushed back from her resting spot and let the door slide closed. Now, she was tired. Now, it was time for a nap.

Then maybe, just maybe she could wake up and have this all be a dream.

If this all were a dream, she could wake up and then she would be fine.


	2. Chapter 1

World on Fire

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Castle or else I would have more in my wallet than a nickle and an old tic tac.

A/N: I forgot to mention this last chapter, thank you to DocNerd89 for helping me with random Castle facts for this story. :)

* * *

Chapter 1

Kate wrapped her arms around her middle as she stood just outside the beginning of the roped-off path leading up to the ticket counter at the airport. The crowd of suits and tourists bustled around her, some of the patrons grumbling as they were forced to take two steps out of the predicted path to step around her still form. Rolling suitcases whirred after them. One woman's shoulder bag swung out, clipping Kate's shoulder and she shuffled a step closer to her father in response, reaching a hand up to brush an errant strand of hair from where it had stuck to her lip gloss.

"I can stay, take a semester off. The advisor in admissions said it would be no problem. I would just need to file some paperwork," Kate's voice trailed off as her father forced a small smile onto his face and he rubbed a hand down her arm. She bit off her words before she started spilling details about needing a copy of the death certificate and filing for bereavement leave-of-absence from school.

"No, Katie, you should go. It's what your mother would have wanted— for you to keep going. You're not going to become the first woman Supreme Court justice if you drop out of Stanford."

Kate opened her mouth to argue, taking a leave-of-absence was not the same as dropping out but she snapped her jaw shut with a sigh instead. "Okay, well, just call me if you need anything, okay? I'll be on the first flight back."

Jim nodded, his head bobbing up and down, and Kate took a step forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder as she breathed in the scent of fabric softener and his aftershave.

"I love you, Katie," Jim murmured into her hair as he squeezed his arms around her a little bit tighter, a reaffirmation that she was still there with him, in the flesh.

"I love you too, Dad," she replied as she pulled back and brought a sleeved arm up, using the sliver of sleeve that jutted out past the end of her leather jacket, to wipe a stray tear as it pooled in her eye. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Jim patted her cheek with a sigh. "Go on, Katie. You don't need to stick around just to take care of your old man. I'll be fine."

Kate's heart clenched at the sound of that word: fine. It had been her mantra for the past two weeks. Fine, just fine, everything was fine. She was fine. Her father was fine. She sighed as she forced herself to nod and take a step back into the rope maze leading to the counter. Her mouth twisted up into a weak smile and she tugged on the handle of her large rolling suitcase, pulling it along behind her as she adjusted the strap of the purple backpack slung over her shoulder.

Her father's lips twisted up into a grimace of a smile in reply and Kate turned her attention to the flight attendant behind the counter as she was called to the next available station. The bleach blonde woman flashed her a wide saccharine grin full of perfectly white teeth as she reached for Kate's ID. Kate glanced over her shoulder at her father, who was standing back by the wall, next to the entrance of the men's restroom, with his arms folded over his chest and tears pooling in his eyes. Kate took a shaky breath and ducked her head back around in time to see the expectant, questioning look on the attendant's face.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

The woman blinked at her and gave her an indulgent smile. "We have a seat open in the emergency row, would you like to be seated there? You would just have to agree to help in the event of an emergency."

Kat stared at the woman, a torrent of emotions suddenly raining down upon her, threatening to overtake her, to make her burst open with the weight of what she had refused to let herself feel over the course of the past thirteen days. In the case of an emergency all she wanted to do was roll up into a ball and cry. She didn't want the responsibility, the burden upon her. She wanted to be nineteen, she wanted her mom, she wanted… She took in a sharp breath, the crisp January air, which had crept in through the sliding doors cutting her throat and lungs like a knife.

No. _No._ She was not going to do this here; she was not going to let herself fall apart like this. Not here, not now, not with _Silvia_ staring at her like she was going to collapse into a blubbering mess. She took in another, slower, deeper, breath as the woman behind her in line let out a heavy, exasperated sigh.

She could do this. She could be strong. "Yes, yes, that would be fine. Just fine."

She plastered a smile on her face as Silvia continued to eye her, examining her suddenly blank, innocent expression for any remaining hesitation or doubt.

She wouldn't find any because she was fine.

* * *

"Oh my God, Kate! You're here!"

Kate's bag fell from her shoulder, sliding to the ground just inside the door to her dorm room as her freshman roommate, Laura, came vaulting off of the bed towards her.

"I wasn't sure if you were going to come back. Heather told me what happened. I am so sorry. How are you doing? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Kate's arms came up almost mechanically to return her roommate's hug as Laura continued to babble in her ear. She shook her head as she pulled back from the embrace a moment later and trudged over to the bed as she pushed her hair back, securing it behind her ears as she sunk down onto the bare light green plastic mattress. "I'm okay."

Her gaze dropped down to her hands momentarily before lifting her eyes back up to look at Laura's side of the room. The same posters were plastered to the walls: some iconic pieces of art, an N'SYNC poster Laura refused to be ashamed of, but Kate teased her about relentlessly, and a landscape which had vibrant colors that threatened to jump off the walls. Her bed was already made with her bright pink plaid comforter and throw pillows. Her suitcases were unpacked and photos of her friends and family lined the generic wooden desk. Kate's eyes drifted to her own desk, a picture of her and her mother smiled back at her and her heart clenched in her chest as she reached out towards it, the plastic crinkling underneath her with the movement. She could feel Laura standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly staring at her, unsure of what to do in the moment.

"Well, um, the phi delts are having a party tonight, you know, one last hurrah before the semester begins type of thing. Chelsea and Mackenzie were planning on going, also. I would completely understand if you didn't want too but Paul is going to be there and I know that you two were 'talking' before break so I didn't know if you would want to go with us…" Laura's voice trailed off as the picture slid out of Kate's hands and onto the bed beside her.

Laura had been the one to call Kate, squealing into the phone, when they had received their freshman roommate assignments in the mail the summer before. She was exactly the type of person Kate would make friends with: energetic, athletic, bubbly and sharp as a whip. She was premed and preferred espresso to sleep on any given night. During their first night together in the dorms they had stayed up all night, like a scene from a movie, snacking on a tub of double chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and painting each other's toenails as they learned each other's life stories. She had been the one to hold Kate's hair back the next night as she puked into the toilet of the middle stall of the floor's communal bathroom after their inaugural frat party and scoff with her at the pretentious sorority girls. She had been the one that Kate had sat beside in the same stall, a couple of months later, as Laura clutched to the small plastic pregnancy test like a lifeline in her trembling hand.

Now, she stood, her fingers playing at her side, twitching nervously as she watched Kate study her cuticles of her unpainted fingernails. Now, Kate could barely comprehend getting dolled up in a short skirt and heels in order to flirt with half-drunken frat boys as they attempted to cop a feel.

She forced her mouth up into a half-hearted smile. "I'll think about it."

Laura nodded back, a little too enthusiastically even as the disappointment sounded in her voice. "Okay, sure, just let me know, okay?"

Kate pushed herself off of her bed and forced herself to haul up the suitcase and unpack her possessions for the next semester. Laura sunk down into the mattress, taking Kate's vacated spot, wiggling slightly in an attempt to get comfortable before sighing and pushing herself back up, bending over to pull out the bin from under the bed which housed Kate's red, black and while floral print bed set.

"I was thinking about going to the bookstore later, pick up my books. Would you like to come with me?"

Kate looked over her shoulder at her friend before nodding with a soft sigh. She could do this; she could get her books for anthropology, civics and intro to law. She could force herself to study the Constitutional Amendments. She could sit through her mandatory humanities credits. "Sure, I just need to stop by the admin office first and get my schedule."

"Of course, no problem," Laura agreed, readily. "The coffee cart is open already."

"Good," Kate replied. "Coffee is good."

* * *

"_Mom, what are you doing?" Kate laughed as she watched her mother rifle through another rack of t-shirts. _

"_My only daughter is starting her first semester at Stanford and is following in mine and her father's footsteps to become a lawyer, fighting for truth, justice and everything right in the world. I am allowed to take a few moments and find the perfect memorabilia," Johanna Beckett justified as she pulled another top from the rack._

_Kate rolled her eyes as she suppressed a smile, expelling an exasperated huff in it's place as she stood watching her mother with her hands on her hips. Her mother already had half of the items in the bookstore in her possession: hats, shirts, coffee mugs, pens, and key chains. _

_Johanna pulled a "Stanford Mom" shirt from the rack and held it up to her front, testing it out before nodding in approval. "This is perfect. What do you want, Katie? Do you still want that sweatshirt? I saw you eyeing it, don't deny it."_

_Kate let a small smile slip as she nodded at her mother in reply. _

"_Go grab it then, your father is starting to get impatient, I don't think we can keep him from lunch for much longer."_

Kate wrapped her sweatshirt-clad arms around her stack of books as she clutched them to her chest.

"Hey, Kate, you ready to go?" Laura asked as she came up beside her.

"Hmm?" Kate tore her gaze from the display of t-shirts in front of her to turn to her friend. She dipped her head sucking in a breath as she forced the choked tears collecting in the back of her throat down before nodding with a forced smile. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's get out of here."

She turned away from the rack, walking purposefully towards the check out line as Laura trailed along behind her. She couldn't look back at the other girl; she couldn't take that look of pity any longer. It was getting too hard to keep the choked sobs and threatening torrent of tears at bay. She had to get away from it all, she needed to escape before it became too much to handle, before she finally lost control.

She thanked the cashier before swinging herself around to face her friend, forcing a determination to show in her eyes that she didn't feel in her soul. "Let's go to that party."

* * *

"Hey, Paul," Kate whispered as she leaned up on her toes, her lips brushing the ridge of his ear as she peered at his face over his shoulder from behind. His lips broke into a smile as he turned around to face her.

"Kate! Hi! How was your break?" Paul asked as he leaned into hug her, his right hand still gripping the red Solo cup as he wrapped his arms around her back.

"Great," Kate replied, a wave of relief washing over her at his blissful ignorance. "It was great."

"Your parents happy to see you?" He continued as he pulled back to look down at her with a wide grin.

"Of course and they didn't even turn my old room into a workout station yet. I felt honored," she quipped in reply, pushing her mind into a place when her mother was still alive and everything was still perfect.

Paul laughed in response as he popped off the top of a beer, offering it to her as he took another one out of the cooler for himself. "Always a good thing."

"How about you?"

"Good, it was good. My little sister wouldn't leave me alone the whole time but you know, I'm not complaining and it barely even rained the whole time I was there," he leaned in to whisper to her conspiratorially.

Kate smiled up at him again as she bit into her lower lip. She had met Paul in her quest for coffee a couple months before. He was from Seattle and even though he pretended to deny it, loved his twelve year-old sister more than anything in the world. He was smart, funny and handsome. He was perfect with shaggy blond hair, wide brown eyes and dimples. He would smile at her and she would feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach.

He laughed again, so open, so carefree as he continued to tell her a story about some antics that had happened over break and in that moment the only thing she could think about was how it would feel to kiss him; to allow herself to get lost in the feeling of him around her. So, when their eyes locked again, brown meeting green, she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, soft but firm as he gasped and, after a moment of shock, wrapped his arms around her again. And when, after a couple shots of tequila, he pressed her up against the wall, his teeth scraping against the curve of her neck, she didn't protest but instead relished the shock of feeling coursing through her veins, the feeling of being alive.

It was only when she slipped out of his dorm room in the early morning hours, her heels dangling from her fingers, her hair scraping back into a haphazard ponytail and her arms wrapped around her body that she dipped her head and allowed herself to finally cry.


	3. Chapter 2

World on Fire

A/N: Thank you for all of your awesome reviews, alerts and feedback. I hope I can do this story justice. :)

* * *

Chapter 2

Kate let out a low hum as she stretched her still half asleep body, reaching her hands up to the wooden slatted headboard as her toes skimmed the matching footboard of her twin bed. She could already hear Laura singing softly under her breath as she dressed in her t-shirt and jeans for the day. Her roommate swung her hips back and forth to the beat in her head as she stood in front of the mirror messing with her hair. Kate's hand came up to rub her eyes and she noticed that she was actually smiling. It was a small smile, barely there, but it was a smile nonetheless.

The night before had been good. It had been very good. For the first time in almost a month she had laughed with abandon. It had been a simple night, nothing special. At least before it had been nothing special. Laura had dragged her out of the room to the common area as Kate protested the entire way, physically digging her heels into the ground in an attempt to stop their momentum. They had been sitting in the common room playing Chubby Bunny, the four of them: Kate, Laura, Mackenzie and Chelsea. As Mackenzie had stuffed the last marshmallow into her mouth a stream of white sticky drool had dribbled out of the corner of her lips, causing her eyes to go wide and her to let out a squeal of panic. The quick expulsion of air for the squeal caused her mouthful of half dissolved marshmallows to begin streaming down her chin, seeping onto her shirt and in her mass of curly red hair as she attempted to catch the pile of sticky, white melted goo with her hands. Mackenzie had screeched for help and Kate had fallen to the floor in a fit of laughter as Chelsea jumped from her chair in an effort to commandeer a towel from a nearby pile of momentarily abandoned laundry.

The owner of the laundry had stood stuttering in the doorway, her face frozen in horror as Mackenzie had proceeded to pick at the white goo in her hair with the girl's designer, monogrammed bath towel. Kate had reigned in her laughter long enough to tilt her head back and look at the girl from her place on the floor, but the look of her face combined with Laura falling on top of her, laughing had forced her into another fit of giggles which had continued long past when she had been forced to bolt to the bathroom to stop her from wetting herself.

"Good morning!" Laura called as she glanced back at Kate through the mirror and Kate waved back in response, still too tired to form a verbal response.

"So," Laura continued as she swiped the mascara wand over her eyelashes, blinking away the clumps. "Have you heard from Paul about Valentine's Day yet? It's in ten days you have to get on that."

Kate shook her head as she rubbed a fist over her eyes. Paul had called a few times since she had snuck out of his room a week before but she hadn't returned his calls. "No, I…"

Her voice trailed off as her brain started to awake. _Ten days… _That meant that today was. _Oh, God, no._

Kate bolted off of the bed and flung open the door as she ran down the hall to the bathroom. A girl let out a groan of disgust as Kate wretched into the toilet, tears streaking down her face.

"Morning after's a bitch," another girl quipped and Kate sunk to her knees as the stall door swung back open behind her.

"Kate? Kate, are you okay?" Laura called as she ran through the door of the bathroom and peered around the corner into the stall cautiously.

"I forgot," Kate groaned as she pulled back from the toilet, resting her head back against the plastic side of the cubicle, her knees pulled up to her chest. "I forgot and I was happy. How could I be happy?"

Laura peered down at her, her face twisted in confusion as she watched her friend stare up at her from her place on the floor. "Kate, what are you talking about?"

"It's her birthday and I woke up and I was happy and I forgot…"

Laura's eyes widened as the situation dawned on her. "Your mom… It's your mom's birthday."

Kate tilted her head down into a nod as tears filled her wide eyes. "I was laughing."

"Oh, sweetie," Laura whispered as tears began to stream down Kate's face and the girls standing by the sinks started to whisper. "It's okay. You're allowed to laugh."

"No," Kate moaned as she shook her head against the stall wall. "No, it's not. She's… God, Laura she's…"

Laura stepped into the stall, sinking down to the ground next to her friend as she shut and latched the door, giving them the illusion of privacy in the public bathroom. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

"Oh, God, Laura, she's dead." Kate's chin crumbled as she gasped for breath as fist pressed into her chest, pressing against her heart.

Laura wrapped an arm around Kate and pulled her into her side, gripping Kate to her side as the wet spot on her shoulder grew as Kate's tears drenched her shirt.

* * *

"Hey, thanks for coming." Laura greeted as she pulled open the door.

"Yeah, no problem what's up?" Paul's eyes flickered to Kate's still form as she lay on the bed, curled up facing the wall.

"It's her mom's birthday," Laura leaned in and whispered as she shut the door and Paul stood with his hands shoved in the pockets of his Dockers.

Paul tilted his head towards her in confusion. "Did they have a fight or something?"

Laura stared up at him, her eyes wide. "She didn't tell you…"

Paul shook his head. "Tell me what?"

"Her mom died, Paul, over break. Someone killed her."

Kate's body shuddered as she took in a sudden breath and she let out a choked sob.

"I didn't, she didn't. I haven't even seen her since the party. She said her parents were great…" Paul explained as he rubbed a hand across his forehead and scrubbed it down his cheek.

Laura's eyes drifted over to Kate and she sighed as she rocked back on her heels. "We have a paper due today. I have Kate's copy. I just need to go turn them in and I'll be back in an hour. Can you just, I don't know, keep an eye on her? She hasn't moved since I walked her back in here. I don't know what to do…"

Paul opened his mouth to respond but his words died on his lips as the phone on Kate's desk rang, the shrill sound deafening as it cut through the silent, tense air. Laura sighed and stepped forward as she reached for the receiver up to her ear when Kate didn't even twitch at the sound.

"Hello?"

Paul's eyes drifted towards her as she mumbled something and her eyes darted over to Kate. "Yes, hi Mr. Beckett. How are you doing? Um, yeah, Kate's here. Hold on one second."

Laura placed her palm over the mouthpiece as she took a step towards the bed, placing her free hand on Kate's shoulder as she leaned over her friend's still form. "Kate? Your father's on the phone."

Kate's shoulder twitched slightly but she made no further movement, no sound of acknowledgement and Laura was about to make up a half hearted excuse when she suddenly flipped over and sat up in bed, her eyes blood-shot and rimmed in red from crying. Her hand reached out for the phone and Laura held it out to her, without a word.

"Hi Dad," Kate stated into the phone with a strength in her voice that she had summoned from nowhere. "Yeah, I'm doing okay. Of course I remember. No, I'm fine, really. I miss her but I'm fine."

A tear leaked down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily with the heel of her hand as she tilted the phone away from her face and sniffled. "Classes are going great. Yeah, Laura says hi. Of course I'm staying out of trouble, you know me. How are you doing?"

Kate sighed as she rubbed her thumb and forefinger over her forehead. "You go visit her? Good. What are you doing now?"

Kate's eyes darted to the clock. It was eleven am in California, meaning that it was two in the afternoon in New York. She let out a sigh. "Dad? Have you been drinking? No, no of course I don't blame you. I know it's hard. Just make sure you grab a cab home. Is John with you? Good. Can I talk to him?"

Another tear leaked out of her eyes and her face contorted as she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, shaking her head as she forced the choked sobs back down her throat. "Hi John, yeah I'm doing all right. Just watch out for him, okay? Yeah, you too. Thanks."

The phone fell to the bed beside her as she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and a sob escaped her lips, her eyes rolling up to look at her roommate and darting to Paul when she saw him watching her with unrestrained sympathy. Laura took a step towards her, a hand reached out and Kate shook her head.

"Just leave, please, both of you, just go," Kate choked out as she dropped her head, pressing her hand against her mouth as she let out a slow breath of air.

"Kate…" Paul started as he took a step forward.

"I said to go!" Kate yelled as she bolted back up from the bed, swinging her legs out so she could stand on shaky ground. "I didn't say bye, I didn't call you. Can't you take a hint? I don't want to do this. I don't want to date you. I don't want you to feel bad for me. I don't want a pity fuck, so just get out!"

"Fine," Paul agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he took a step back as Kate's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I'm going."

The door clicked shut behind him and Kate sunk to the ground her head resting on her knees as she continued to cry.

"I'll be back in an hour," Laura whispered as she gathered up her bag and coat. Kate nodded in reply, not lifting her head from her legs. "Kate… I'm…"

"Don't say it," Kate pleaded, her voice raw as she lifted her head to look at her friend. "Please just don't tell me you're sorry."

Laura bobbed her head in agreement, her upper lip pulled between her teeth as she turned towards the door. "Okay."

* * *

"Why are you here, Kate?"

Kate's eyes rolled up from where she had been studying her fingernails, absently wondering if she should go get a manicure after her appointment, if that was appropriate behavior. "My mom died."

The counselor nodded, her head cocked to the side as she silently waited for Kate to continue.

Kate stared at her blank expression, the passive look etched on features, the concern flickering in her eyes. Kate shook her head and pressed her palm against her mouth as she stared out the window overlooking the quad.

Only when she continued to stare out the window silently, watching the world pass her by did the counselor continue, prompting her on with a question, the dreaded question which forced Kate's eyes closed with a sigh. "How does that make you feel?"

"How do you think it makes me _feel?_" Kate spat back. "My _mom_ is dead."

The woman continued to look at her, expressionless as she leaned back in her chair, waiting for Kate's defensive anger to pass.

Kate deflated back into her chair with a sigh, nestling back into the corner, her knees pulled up to her chin. "I feel nothing or everything at once. It's like I'm numb and then I am writhing in pain. There is no middle, no balance. I didn't want to come today, my friend made the appointment, made me come. She said she was afraid… she was afraid for me."

"Are you angry?"

Kate tilted her head to the side, resting it on the back of the chair. "Yeah, I'm angry but I know they will catch the bastard that killed her and then at least I will have someone to be angry at. Once that happens everything will be okay, I'll be able to move on."

The counselor nodded as she unfolded her hands and lifted one from her lap, gesturing out in front of her. "What if they don't catch him?"

Kate lifted her head as she looked at the other woman in question, as if the woman had just asked her why she thought the sky was blue. "They're going to catch him. They have to. My mother was a good person. She spent her life fighting for people's rights, working with the police; she was one their side. They will find the person who killed her, they'll do it for her."

* * *

A/N: Feedback is more than welcome. I look forward to hearing what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 3

World on Fire 

A/N: Thank you again to all of you who have been helping me with my "research questions" I am trying to keep this as accurate as possible. :)

None of Castle's books before the Storm series are in order but assuming that he wrote one a year starting when he was 20 and he is 8 years older than Kate, then he wouldn't be onto his Derrick Storm series yet when Kate was 19. That is my logic. I hope it is not too flawed. :)

* * *

Chapter 3

Kate stared at the display of books in front of her, the glossy covers, a hand reaching out of the ground scattered with flowers staring back at her. It was morbid and slightly over the top but she couldn't tear her eyes away. The days had been getting better, a little easier, inch-by-inch, moment-by-moment as they passed. Sometimes it felt like she was going through the motions: reading a textbook or writing a paper. She would study for tests and her mind would wander before she was able to reign it back in. But some days it was okay. Some days she could breathe easier and the weight on her shoulders seemed a little bit lighter. Her therapist seemed happy with her progress.

It had been three months and she was doing okay. She had stopped going out most night. Occasionally she would be at a club or a party but mostly she had started to keep to herself. Laura watched her, guarded, most days. Their friendship had become strained but it was no one's fault. Now Kate was just damaged and Laura wasn't. She had seen Paul a couple weeks before at a frat party, as she stood in the corner nursing her drink. He had seen perfectly happy with the brunette on his arm: the normal, smiling, undamaged brunette. The one that wasn't seeing a shrink twice a week and telling herself that it didn't mean anything that she suspected that her father had been drunk more times than not when she had spoken to him on the phone.

Then the phone call had come: another ten minutes of her life that she explained away, rationalized, categorized in her mind. Her father wasn't drunk, he wasn't slurring his words; he was just tired. He hadn't slept well since her mother had died. That was all. But the words still hung in the air between them. The case was closed: random gang violence. Her mother had been caught in the middle. They had no suspects, no leads, but three months after she had died it was done. Finished. A story with the last chapter left unwritten. No rhyme, no reason, just random.

Her fist clenched at her side as she thought about it, about the detective who had said that they would find the guy. Raglan. Random Raglan. That's how she would remember him. Random gang violence and her father sobbing into the phone as she sat on the edge of her bed staring at the wall— Laura's wall of cheerful posters. No justice.

Her hand unclenched and reached out slowly as an announcement blared over the intercom. _Flight number #325 to New York JFK is no boarding. _The words reverberated through her head. That was her flight. She should go. Her hand gripped the spine of the book, lifting it off of the flimsy plastic stand.

_Flowers for your Grave. _The Newest best seller by Richard Castle!

Kate flipped the front cover of the book open slowly as she cradled it in her hand, smoothing out the hard cardboard cover as it cracked slightly. Opened for the first time. Still smelling fresh and new.

_Four murders in and the NYPD are still desperate for a lead on the serial killer that the tabloids are calling 'The Florist.' Struggling journalist Leroy Fine knows if he cracked this story he could get back everything he's lost – his job, his wife, his self-respect. So when Leroy uncovers a piece of evidence the cops have overlooked, he begins his own private investigation into the twisted and deadly world of The Florist. But as Leroy gets closer to discovering the killer's identity, he soon realizes he's put himself and everyone he loves in mortal danger. Now Leroy must decipher the Florist's riddles and unmask his identity… or end up the latest flower-covered corpse on the Ledger's front page. _

The Police overlooked evidence and Leroy started his own investigation. He kept going; he didn't shove it aside as _random gang violence_. He didn't give up. She shut the book, gripping it to her chest as she made her way to the check out counter.

"Okay, Mr. Castle," Kate murmured herself as she wound her way through the airport, making her way towards the plane that was taking her home for spring break. "Let's see what you've got."

She didn't sleep that night, her eyes glued to the pages, flying over the words as she devoured each and every sentence. She had to know how it ended; she needed the closure, the justice. She needed Leroy to catch The Florist and to make everything right for the victims, the families and he did. He succeeded. She flipped over the final page of the story and her eyes landed on the sleeve of the back cover of the book.

_Best selling mystery novelist Richard Castle lives in New York City and is being raised by his daughter. _

Kate's fingers traced over the picture softly, with a sense of awe she felt deep down in her soul. He was young, maybe a few years older than her but he still had a playful glint in his eye, and a sly grin on his face. How could someone who wrote such dark material still be so alive, so playful, so undamaged? She curled her fingers in as she forced her eyes away and closed the back cover, placing the novel gently on her side table and reaching for the light.

For the first time in days, since she had the conversation with her father, she could sleep because The Florist had be caught and the families finally had the closure that she craved for herself.

* * *

It was Thursday before Kate finally allowed herself to face the truth, it wasn't just a series of bad days; it wasn't an isolated incident. It was constant and it was pain and she needed to be here for him. She had left him alone, abandoned while she had partied with her friends in California.

"I just miss her so much, Katie," her father whimpered as she slung his arm across her shoulder and hauled him up off of the couch and caught him around the waist as they both stumbled towards his bedroom.

"I know, Dad," Kate sighed as he sat down on the edge and she knelt down to pull off his shoes. She had tried talking to him, rationalizing that he didn't need to do this, but the words fell flat and she couldn't muster up the energy to keep fighting. She was tired too. She wanted to pull the bottle of vodka down from the cabinet and chug it until the pain was washed away and she was numb again. Numb was easier to deal with, to handle, then the constant gnawing sensation at her heart. Part of her didn't blame her father. He would make his way out of it and she would help him but she had to be strong for him. For them. For her. She couldn't allow herself to fall also.

It was only a temporary thing. He would heal and he wouldn't need his crutch anymore then they would both be fine. They would be able to talk about her and joke and laugh and cry. It would be like it was before. It would be okay. He just needed a little bit of help right now. He needed justice, just like she did. Closure. She could give him that. She could do it, for him. Leroy had done it. He had taken the matter into his own hands and had solved the case that everyone else had given up on. Raglan and the NYPD had given up on her mother, that didn't mean that she had to as well.

_What are you going to do, catch the guy yourself?_

Kate had stopped her rant, freezing in the middle of the dorm room where she had been pacing back and forth as Laura's scoff echoed through her head.

_What are you going to do, catch the guy yourself? _

Why not? Someone had to.

* * *

"_You are not serious, Kate? You can't become a cop! People like us don't become cops we become lawyers and doctors and financial managers. We don't carry guns or wear uniforms."_

Laura's arguments replayed in her head as she sat waiting in the admissions office at NYU Friday morning. Her friend had spent an hour trying to talk her out of her decision to change her major. Her determination had wavered as she had listened to the arguments. She jogged for exercise. She didn't lift weights. She didn't know martial arts or even self-defense. She had never held a gun or a knife. Her nails were always perfectly manicured and her collection of shoes and handbags was probably worth more than a street cop's annual salary.

She had almost stopped; she had almost given up. _Leroy did it. He solved it when everyone else said he couldn't. He didn't give up, why would you? _

Kate stood as her name was called and she made her way down the hall to the admission counselor's office.

"So, Ms. Beckett, you are looking to transfer from Stanford, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you are pre-law? 4.00 GPA, impressive. You're a smart girl."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, but I am going to be changing my major."

The counselor glanced up at her over the top of his wire-framed glasses and let out a sigh. "Ms. Beckett, pre-law is a great choice. NYU has an excellent law program. I think you would be very happy there."

"I'm sure I would, sir," Kate agreed, her jaw set; her eyes unwavering as they held his. "But I don't want to be a lawyer. I'm going to become a cop."


	5. Chapter 4

World on Fire

A/N: And they said it couldn't be done. Ha! (Those of you who this pertains to, know what I am talking about. Let me know if I did this chapter justice or if you did just burst out laughing at the whole situation ;).)

* * *

Chapter 4

It was so bad and yet she couldn't help but get lost in the words time and time again. The professor speech was flowing into her ears but her mind was to busy with the words on the page to pay attention. They had a test next class; she should probably listen to the review but she couldn't tear herself away. She had already read this novel. In fact, she had already read all of his novels, all ten that were out anyway. She had devoured each of them and then gone back to read them again. This was probably her least favorite, and definitely the least plausible and most offensive: angry Wiccans out for revenge, but she read it anyway, just as intensely as she had read it the first time. He was about to come out with a new one and a new character: Derrick Storm. Kate was excited. The PR blurbs had said that it would be a series centered around a private investigator. One man solving crimes, righting wrongs, finding justice for helpless victims. It would be fantastic.

"That is all for today. Remember to get your blue book for the exam on Friday. I will not have extras. If you forget yours you'd better pray that one of your classmates will lend you one or else you will fail."

Kate sighed as she shut the novel and leaned over to shove it into her backpack. She had been so close, only one or two more paragraphs and they would have had him. The bastard. She pulled her hair back into a hasty ponytail before rising out of her seat and slinging the bag over her shoulder.

It was October and she was plodding her way through the remainder of her general education courses so she could dive into her criminal justice courses. She would be taking criminal psychology in the spring and she was excited. She could almost taste it, the zeal, the passion, the drive for justice. She could do this. She could find them, and nothing would get in her way.

"You ask her."

"No, you ask her."

Kate cocked her head to glance over her shoulder at the two guys standing in the row behind her as she adjusted the strap of her bag. One cast a glance her way before turning away suddenly and nudging his friend in the shoulder, pushing him forward. Kate turned back around, rolling her eyes. _Men._

She sighed as she moved towards the edge of the row, turning back towards the rear doors and the sunny October New York day waiting for her outside.

"Excuse me," one of the guys stated as he stepped out into the aisle in front of her. His hands came up to grasp the strap of his messenger bag, which was slung across his body.

Kate raised an eyebrow as she appraised him and his friend. His red hair was short, almost buzzed, his pale skin peppered in freckles making his bright green eyes shine behind his thin wire-frame glasses. He had on a sweater vest over his button up shirt. She let out a slight huff. Definitely not her usual type.

"Can I help you?" She asked impatiently as she glanced past him to the door. Only a few more feet and she could leave European History WWI-WWII behind her and focus on the present, for now.

"Hi," the first one said, sticking out his hand. "I'm Anthony, Tony for short, and this is Michael."

He gestured over his shoulder at his friend before offering his hand back out to her. Kate peered past him as she took his hand with a squeeze and glanced over "Michael". He had a completely shaved head and mocha skin. He was clad in a pale yellow polo and khakis and also had a messenger bag slung across his body. Her eyes glanced down to see that they were both wearing loafers.

Kate quirked an eyebrow again. Loafers? Really?

"Kate," she offered slowly in reply.

"Kate, nice to meet you," Tony continued, both of his hands grasping the strap of his bag again as he swayed to the side, with a nod, to allow a couple of girls to pass. He glanced around for second as the room cleared out and Kate let out another sigh in annoyance, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Look, I don't know what this is about but I am really not looking to date anyone right now and I have places to be, so if you don't mind, I'm going to go," Kate interjected when Tony still failed to continue and stepped around him towards the door.

"No! It's not that. Trust me, I'm not looking to, I mean _we _are together," Tony called after, gesturing between Michael and himself.

Kate paused, looking back over her shoulder in surprise. "Oh, well, um, sorry?"

She stepped back down the aisle towards the pair. "Then, what's up? Why so awkward?"

"We were wondering," Michael spoke up for the first time. "We are art majors and well, you are gorgeous and we are looking for models…"

Kate let out a laugh in surprise, her eyes darting between the pair. "You want me to model for your art class?"

Tony and Michael nodded their heads in tandem, timid smiles gracing their faces. "We couldn't pay you but we would take you out to dinner, you know since it is the proper thing to do after seeing a girl naked."

Kate let out another startled laugh. "You want me to model _naked_?"

"Um, yes?" Michael chimed in, poking his head around Tony's shoulder. "Trust me, it will be totally professional. I promise."

Kate bit her lip as she shifted her weight onto one foot, swaying to the side slightly as she debated. It might be kind of fun and she had never been particularly shy about her body. She shook her head. She was going to become cop. She was going to be the best and she was going to solve her mother's case. She couldn't be doing things like this anymore. She had to be an adult. She already had those embarrassing modeling pictures from when she was a teenager, she did not want to add fuel to the fire.

"No, sorry guys. I can't," she moved to turn back towards the door and Tony let out a sigh.

"Okay but if you change your mind. This is the address of the student gallery. Some of our work is there. Go check it out. My number is on the back," Tony held out a business card to her and Kate grasped it between two fingers with a hesitant smile. "It was nice to meet you, Kate. We'll see you in class on Friday."

* * *

"Dad? Are you here?" Kate called as she pushed through the door to her parent's, her _father's,_ apartment, pulling her key out of the lock. "I just wanted to stop by."

"Katie, hi!" Jim called as he walked out of the bedroom, a flicker of light shining in his eye. "What a wonderful surprise. I haven't seen you in weeks."

"Yeah, I know, sorry. School's been crazy," Kate justified as she came forward to embrace her father in a hug, letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. He was doing well today. He had said he was going to try to clean up his act and maybe he had.

"Good crazy though, I hope," Jim offered as he pulled back, turning towards the kitchen. Do you want something to drink?"

Kate shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I can't stay long."

Jim nodded, a flicker of disappointment shining in his eyes. "Oh, I understand. Are you going out with your friends?"

Kate shook her head, as her arms came up to wrap around her body, her eyes surveying the apartment. It was tidy but not as clean as it had been a year before. There was a thin layer of dust covering everything and the air just seemed stale, stifling. A reminder. She lifted a hand to push a lock of hair behind her ear. "No, not going out with friends. I just have a lot of work to do."

That is what she was focused on now: work. No more partying, no more drinking and making out with frat boys. No more one night stands. Paul had cured her of that. No, now it was work. She was going to graduate at the top of her class. She was going to go to the police academy. She was going to bust her ass and become a detective. She was going to prove herself to them and to her mother. She was going to solve the case. That was all that mattered now.

Jim let out a sigh. "You need to have some fun, Katie. It's not a crime to have friends."

Kate nodded in agreement as she forced herself not to roll her eyes. He didn't get it, he didn't understand. She watched as he plucked his coat off of the back of one of his chairs.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Kate asked bewildered.

"Out. I'm meeting up with John. Going to watch the game," Jim answered with a tired sigh.

Kate peered at him more closely. He still had the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked tired, so tired. His shoulder's hunched slightly. "You're going to a bar?"

Jim nodded, not looking at her. "I'm fine, Katie. I'm just going to watch the game and have a beer with my friend. I'm allowed to do that."

Kate let out a sigh, feeling the anger swelling up inside of her again. "Fine. Have fun."

She whirled around and threw the door open as she strutted out of the apartment.

* * *

Her fist connected purposefully with the punching bag as she let out a grunt. _Stupid. Idiotic. Son. Of. A. Bitch._ Her fists connected with each though, each word rolling around in her head. She could feel it in her gut; that ache, that knowledge that she would be getting a call in the middle of the night: her father sobbing to her over the phone. Sweat dripped down her forehead, trailing down the side of her cheek and she swung a fist at the bag again.

_But he's grieving; give him his space. He'll work himself out of it. He just needs time. _

_Stupid._

_Naïve._

Another punch. She could feel the impact reverberating through her stomach. It felt like someone had punched her, too. Her fists moved faster and faster; grunts and groans echoing through the empty room. It was Wednesday night during midterms. No one else was here; they were all studying, like she was supposed to be doing. Instead all she wanted to do was drink. How could she blame him if she still wanted to do the exact same thing he was doing: drown her sorrows?

_Hypocrite._

She wanted the same. She wanted to lose herself in something, in someone. Her body was tingling. Her fist connected with the bag again. She wanted to feel alive. She could just go out to a bar, pick up some guy and leave before he even woke up the next morning. There was no shame in that.

No. _No._

She couldn't do it. It always seemed like it would be a good idea but she would wake up filled with regrets and emotionally raw.

_No. Not this time_.

Her fist connected with the bag one last time and she fell forward, clutching the swaying object as she slid to the floor, her head resting on the side of the plastic covering. The smell of sweat, disinfectant and plastic filled her head, swirling with the over active thoughts.

The world spun around her as she gasped for breath and brushed a hand over her face in a futile attempt to dry the sweat.

No, the next time she went to a bar or a party, she would be sociable with friends. The next time she slept with someone, it would be because she loved them, was in a relationship with them. Until then, she would have to figure out another way.

She should call her therapist; make another appointment. She sighed. But she had been doing so well. She had gone religiously over summer, twice a week in May, down to once a week in June and July and once every two weeks in August. Then in September she had only gone one time in the whole month. She had thrown herself into her work and her workouts, and it had been going well. If she brought this up again: the men, the drinking then she would be placed back into weekly sessions. She didn't want that. If she had to answer the question "and how does that make you feel?" one more time, she would scream. Not metaphorically scream, no. She would seriously just start wailing and then she would have to go back to twice a week sessions.

No, that wasn't happening.

She was fine. She was finally fine. She just needed… she needed a thrill. She needed something to take her mind off of everything. She needed a night out with friends.

She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth as she reached for her backpack, lying sprawled out on the mat so that she could reach two fingers into the side pocket to pull out the business card, her eyes studying the information. NYU Student Art Gallery. Anthony Little. She let out a small huff of a laugh. It could be fun and it _was _art. She did like art. Anthony and Michael seemed like nice enough guys and it wasn't like they would try anything.

She sighed again as she pushed herself off of the sweat-slick surface. The least she could do was check it out.

* * *

"Kate! You came!" Tony called, clapping in glee as he rounded a sculpture to greet her.

"Hi, Tony," Kate replied with a small wave. She adjusted her purse strap across her shoulder as she stood awkwardly inside the door of the student section of the gallery. The space was surprisingly big and some of the works were breathtaking.

Her eyes wandered over the walls as Tony stood next to her, patiently waiting. "Some of it's amazing isn't it? That's Michael's right there."

Kate's eyes followed the line from his outreached finger to a sketch on the wall, a woman running through a warzone, trying to keep her composure. "Wow."

It felt like a punch to the gut as she studied the woman fleeing from the burning city behind her. "Her world is on fire."

"Yeah, it's just the beginning for him. He's in love with that scene. He leaves sketches of her all over the place. He's talked about paintings and sculptures."

Kate nodded. "I would buy one."

Tony's face broke into a proud grin. "I'll add your name to the list and by add, I mean that you are the start of the list."

Kate let out a slight laugh, a true smile breaking onto her face for the first time in weeks, perhaps months. She glanced around again, the sea of vibrant colors and scenes assaulting her senses. Everything was alive here: vibrant. Stories begging to be told, threatening to burst off the canvas with child like enthusiasm: an idealism that came with still being in the shelter of school and not yet exposed to the harshness of the real world: heartache and rejection.

She turned to look at Tony as he peered at the art around them as well, not awkward, just comfortable around each other. She was comfortable here, she felt safe.

"So, you still looking for models?"

* * *

A/N: Covered in this chapter: Kate's line from 4x05 that she once posed for an art class nude. And Stana's statement that she wanted Kate to have a gay best friend. Thoughts?  
:)


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